


One Last Show

by Ranger_NJoyC



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Music School, F/F, F/M, Multifandom Gift Exchange 2020, Theater AU, bobbi is a dancer/choreographer, coulson is a teacher, daisy is an actor, daisy is coulson and may's adopted daughter, deke is the stage manager, fitz is a writer/composer, fun times all around, hunter is an actor, idk how to tag this thing, jemma works in costume department, lincoln is an actor, mack is a student director, may runs the department, music academy au, skimmons enemies to lovers, ward is an actor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranger_NJoyC/pseuds/Ranger_NJoyC
Summary: Daisy 'Skye' Johnson had learned many things from her time as an orphan. Most prominent among them was how to run at the first sign of trouble. When she finally has a family- a stable life- she has the opportunity to pursue her dreams, attending SHIELD Academy of the Arts and joining the theater program. But when things start falling apart and people get hurt, Daisy wonders if it might've been better if she had ran away when she had the chance.
Relationships: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for @maya-livingstone on tumblr! I hope you enjoy it love. This is gonna be wayyy longer than I planned on, maybe 20-30 chapters, if I'm being honest.

There were four things Daisy ‘Skye’ Johnson had learned from living at multiple orphanages throughout her childhood years. The first thing was how to watch and observe. As a kid, she had watched the comings and goings of adults with precision, timing her late night excursions so that no one would ever be the wiser. Sneaking out had become second nature to Daisy.

She saw her first concert when she was seven. Daisy had heard about it a few days prior, and made a resolution to go see it. It was outdoors, and she was able to sneak in fairly easily, claiming a spot behind the stage, in the shadows. She might’ve only been able to see it from the back, but she was instantly captured by the music. That moment, she vowed the become a musician, to learn to play an instrument and learn to sing. She didn’t dare bring up her newfound passion in front of any of her foster families over the years, but she practiced her singing in secret, never giving up on her dream, as unlikely as it might be.

The second thing Daisy learned was how to run. She certainly had practice, running away from bullies, running away from abusive homes, running away from anything and everything. Running wasn’t heroic, it wasn’t brave. It was smart. She knew how to use her wits and run in the opposite direction.

Of course, this wasn’t always the case. She used to think so, that she would be able to run from anything, but she was wrong. When she was ten years old, she was adopted by the Peterson family. But when the time came, when they showed their true nature, when they threatened her, she found she was stuck in place. She couldn’t run, not when someone else was at risk. She couldn’t leave their son, Mike, all alone. If she had, she knew the Petersons would’ve blamed him and taken their anger out on their own son. 

So she stayed. She stayed put and she took it, until Mike finally got the courage to run away. She slipped out of the house the next day, finding him on the side of the road and helped him, teaching him all she knew about living as a runaway.

Mike got away, but Daisy was found when the Petersons sent out an ad, looking for Daisy Johnson, saying they were so upset she had left, and asking for help to find her. That was the moment she created Skye. 

Skye was smart, she was brave, she was sassy and she could do anything. The local authorities asked for her name, and she said ‘Skye.’ Skye went them to the nearest orphanage, where she stayed for approximately ten days before running again.

The third thing Daisy learned was how to take a punch. She didn’t know exactly when this reality settled in on her, but at some point she realized she needed to be stronger, to fight back if she wanted to stop being the victim. The first few times she was struck, she teared up and ran, just like she always did. But the third time this happened, she came right back, not even a minute after the initial encounter and punched the kid squarely in the jaw. It hurt her hand more than it hurt him, but he was certainly shocked enough that he didn’t return the blow.

Unluckily for Daisy, this was right when an adult walked by, and all they saw was her strike against him, apparently unprovoked. The other boy did nothing to suggest otherwise. She got in trouble, like always, but she felt nothing but satisfaction. She had finally stood up for herself, and she was ready to take on anything.

She continued to get in fights, most of them not her fault. Even when she couldn’t land a single hit on the other kid, she never ran from a fair fight, instead just taking the hits and showing no fear. Daisy would’ve ran, for sure. But she wasn’t Daisy when she was fighting. She was Skye, and Skye could do anything. At least, that’s what Daisy told herself.

The last thing Daisy picked up from living on the run was a fight or flight instinct. People tried to get close to her, to get to know her, and she ran or lashed out at them. She couldn’t open up to people, she couldn’t let people in.

So when Phillip Coulson and Malinda May adopted Daisy at the age of 16, she didn’t know what to do. They were nice. That unnerved her. They took her in, despite all her flaws, and said they saw her good heart underneath. Daisy kept a bag packed, however, for the first month of living with them. She didn’t unpack what few possessions she owned, and she was sure Coulson and May noticed.

They tried to set up a routine for her, incorporate her smoothly into their lives as if she had been part of their family for years instead of just days. It was smart- it would’ve worked for most kids. Most adopted children would’ve been ecstatic to be included and not treated like an outsider. But Daisy knew how people could be, and she had been through a lot in her sixteen years of life. The routines felt too tight for her, her new caretakers too open to be true. She had lived for so many years on her own, on her own time. Making her own schedules. Taking care of herself.

Coulson tried to care for her, tried to be there for her, let her open up to him. May tried to give her space, while avoiding deep sentimental conversations. Daisy instantly preferred May. She wasn’t ready to talk to Coulson about herself. So she listened. She listened to May and Coulson tell her about their lives.

After a few months, she began to finally relax. She took off her shoes and put her feet up for the first time in her life. She got a full night’s sleep without worrying about having to run away at a moment’s notice. She finally told Coulson her real name.

Daisy. Daisy Johnson. She hadn’t gone by that name in a long, long time. Skye been there for her, Skye had followed through and served its purpose. Now, she felt safe. It was an unfamiliar feeling. She felt comfortable enough to show her true self, rather than her unbreakable persona.

Coulson took it in stride, encouraging her to find herself without the constant fear. May gave her a single nod, but it spoke volumes to Daisy. She knew her parents understood.

She looked at her bag, still unpacked in the corner of her room and sighed. She wanted to trust them, she did. Coulson was a supportive dad, such a great parent it was as if he was born the play that role. May didn’t like to express emotion, but her seriousness and tough love made Daisy feel grown up. If there was one thing Daisy hated, it was being babied. Coulson was there for her and May was there for her(albeit in a different way). Why was she so defensive still? Why hadn’t she unpacked her bag? Why hadn’t she fully accepted the people who went out of their way to care about her and love her, unconditionally and forever?

Daisy didn’t know. She couldn’t figure herself out, and she didn’t think she ever would.

Daisy walked over to her backpack, resting one hand on the top, the other lightly fiddling with the cold zipper. It was worn and tired, it’s colors faded and dull, the edges fraying. Coulson had offered to buy her a new one, but she declined. This one had been with her through a lot, and it’s sad appearance was the most accurate representation of her mental state that she could find. Daisy wasn’t one for sentiments; you couldn’t grow too attached when there was nothing stable in your life. This backpack had been the one thing that had stayed with her through everything. It was her only constant for many years, and she wasn’t ready to part with it, not yet, maybe not ever.

Hand trembling, she unzipped the pack, careful not to snag it on the frayed threads sticking out. Inside her backpack was her necessities, in case she had to run away. She knew she didn’t need them any more, but she felt so much safer knowing she had supplies with her in her room. At the bottom of her bag was a picture- a picture she hadn’t shown anybody.

In the faded photograph, a nine-year-old Daisy was sitting on a piano bench, hands resting lightly on the keys. She was caught mid laugh- an expression of pure joy and the elated feeling of being free. One of the other kids at the orphanage, a young boy named Trip who loved photography, had snuck out with her, and they had gone into a music shop, as inconspicuous as possible and stayed for a few hours before the manager found them playing with the pianos in the back room and kicked them out. She didn’t know where Trip was now. She didn’t know where any of them were now.

Coulson knocked on the doorframe, startling Daisy out of her memories. When she didn’t respond, he moved into the room, sitting on the end of her bed. Slowly, Daisy stood up and sat next to him. He hesitated for a moment, then laid an arm around her shoulders. She tensed for a second before relaxing into his embrace.

“What’cha got there?” he asked, pointing to the photo in Daisy’s hands.

“This is from when I was younger,” Daisy said. “I was with my friend Trip. We snuck out to a music store.”

Coulson perked up. “Do you like music?”

Daisy nodded, still lost in thought.

“Well, you know how May and I met-” he said.

“Yeah,” Daisy replied. “I do.”

Coulson had told her the story many times. He worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of the Arts, where he taught in the theater division of the school. It was the smallest section, especially in the musical theater club. Most students at SHIELD took classes in the band division. That was the section that gave SHIELD it’s good name and reputation, after all. The Avengers, a band of students at academy, had brought in loads of people to SHIELD.

Coulson was the teacher director of the musical theater club, as well as teaching classes in acting. May was the director of that division. The rest was history.

“Maybe you could come take classes at SHIELD!” Coulson said. “We can get you piano lessons if you want?”

“Thanks, actually, that would be nice.” Daisy smiled up at her adoptive father.

“Of course, that’s what we’re here for. To help you-” he poked her shoulder, “-be your best self. And if you want to learn piano, then we’ll get you formal lessons. For now, want to come downstairs? I can show you some starter things.”

Daisy smiled and thanked him once more, standing up and following Coulson out of the room.

  
  


* * *

_ TWO YEARS LATER _

  
  


Daisy stared down at the letter in her hand in shock. Coulson and May were looking at her with wide smiles on their faces(which in May’s case, meant slightly upturned lips).

“Is this real? Is-is this a joke?” she said numbly.

“It’s real, it’s real Daisy,” Coulson laughed in joy. “You got in!”

“I got in,” Daisy repeated in wonder.

“I knew you would,” May said. “It’s not like they could deny someone like you.”

“They need your talent at SHIELD,” Coulson said.

Daisy looked up at him then. “It’s not talent,” she said. “It’s hard work and dedication.”

May nodded approvingly. “That’s the right answer.”

The next few days passed by in a blur. Daisy packed up all her clothes into a suitcase. She hesitated, before grabbing her photo, but leaving the backpack on the floor where it had sat for two years. Daisy had always been a minimalist, so although Coulson had offered to help decorate her room, she had left it relatively plain. There wasn’t much to pack, and she finished in a matter of minutes.

Although Daisy had been closed off and uncomfortable at first with Coulson and May, she had grown closer to them and finally found out what it felt like to be wanted, to be loved. Now that she had adult figures in her life who actually gave a damn about her, she wasn’t ready to let that go, to leave them. She supposed that was one benefit of going to college where her parents worked. She would get to see them every day, despite living at campus.

There was a week of no classes at the end of each term- Coulson had called it performance week. SHIELD was, after all, a performing school of the arts. Coulson and May said she could move into her dorm at the start of the week, and get settled and watch some performances to know what it’s like. Then, after break, she would join as the spring semester started.

It was nerve-wracking. Daisy followed Coulson and May in her own car to the school. There was a parking lot for freshman specifically, so she found a spot and hopped out, rolling her lightweight suitcase behind her. Coulson smiled at her, then checked his watch and did a double-take. 

“It’s nearly noon. I gave my students the morning off to practice, but I do have to get to rehearsal, sorry.” He kissed May on the cheek and hugged Daisy before sprinting off, tie flapping in the wind. May walked Daisy into the building.

The campus was massive, with broad hallways and towering ceilings. It felt modern, sleek, with geometric architecture and arches and pentagon shaped windows. The Hub- the central room- was as big and busy as a train station. It was a large heptagon, with looming passages starting on each wall. It was busier than Daisy expected at this time. Most of the teachers must’ve given the morning off for individual practice. 

May walked into the theater division, and Daisy followed her, unsure where to go. They walked through the theater division, which was for acting classes and where the theater was located, as well as practice rooms, the costume shop, set design, and scriptwriting and songwriting workshops. Daisy had read about it in the introductory packet.

May’s office was close to the entrance. She slid into her office and sat down at her desk. Daisy held the door open, standing in the doorframe. May frowned at her.

“You should head to the student commons and dorms,” May said. “Go unpack. Get settled. Make some friends. I’ll be here if you need anything, but try not to stop by too often. I do have work to do.”

Daisy smiled and gave May a thumbs up, closing the door and turning back around. In all honesty, she had no idea where the student area was, but figured it must be in one of the other branches of the Hub. She walked quickly back out to the Central Hub, and spotted a branch that students were milling about in the hallways, more so than any other branch. Most students were exiting the hall, heading towards a different division for rehearsal.

Daisy felt like a fool, carrying her luggage, but put on her Skye face and ignored the strange looks people were sending her. This was supposed to be about her. Daisy Johnson. Yet she hadn’t even been there for an hour and she was already slipping into her easy retreat mask of Skye. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t what she wanted.

_No. She took a deep breath. My name is Daisy Johnson,_ she told herself _. I can be smart and I can be brave. I’ve survived much worse than this, I can take a hit. I can take a few odd glances._ Daisy looked around at the people around her. _Though I suppose I could use a little bit of Skye in a new situation._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy spies on the theater nerds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I don't know how colleges work. I'm taking a few creative liberties here. Sorry if my descriptions of the stage and backstage area aren't clear enough, I'm happy to rewrite that part if it doesn't make sense. Mostly just set up in this chapter. Next chapter will get to know the cast a bit more, as well as some nice wholesome Lincoln and Daisy friendship moments <33 Enjoy!

Daisy strode forward confidently, slipping into all the swagger of Skye with ease. She swerved to avoid several people running through the hall in a panic, making her way to a desk right where the hall split into two sets of staircases, leading up to a tall balcony and more halls. In between the staircases leading up, there were three steps leading to a slightly lowered, noisy area. A sign told Daisy it was the student commons.

“Hi, yes, hello,” Daisy said , reaching the desk and leaning on it with both her hands. “My name is Daisy Johnson, I’m joining after break, and I was wondering if you could tell me how to find my dorm.”

The woman at the desk regarded Daisy shrewdly. She looked like an older student, tired, irritable, and sleep-deprived.

“Daisy Johnson, you say?” At Daisy’s nod, she looked through her papers. “Oh,” she said after a minute of searching. “You’re Coulson’s kid? Wonder how much he had to bribe them to get you in.”

Several passerby who heard her remark laughed. Daisy didn’t.

“Room 217.” The woman handed Daisy a key. Daisy took it, walking away from the desk quickly. The woman at the desk hadn’t exactly been helpful, so Daisy went up the stairs, trying not to look lost. When she reached the top, she checked the room numbers. They started at 000 and kept counting upwards. Taking a guess, Daisy jogged up the next set of stairs.

She was right. This floor had numbers all through the 100s. One more flight to go.

As she was about to continue the climb, a boy skidded around the corner and rammed into her. She lost her grip on her suitcase, falling backwards down a few stairs before managing to catch the railing and heave herself upright. The boy looked only slightly older than herself, with golden hair and an electric, manic look in his eyes.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry,” the boy apologized, holding his hands out as if he wanted to help but didn’t know how. He bent over, gathering up his fallen papers, continuing to stammer out apologies.

Daisy waved him off. “It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“I truly am sorry,” he said, half hopping backwards as he tried to finish the conversation. “But I have to get to theater rehearsal.”

Daisy froze. “You’re in the musical theater club?” she asked. “Are they doing something different than the normal theater division?”

“We always do, at these type of events. It makes it a pain to learn, having to schedule time for both music rehearsal and also musical practice,” the boy said. “Now, I really have to get going, I’m already late-”

“Could I come?” Daisy interrupted him. “Just to watch. I’m going to be joining after break.”

The boy sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, but it’s a closed door rehearsal. You can come watch during performance week, though!”

Daisy smiled, but internally her mind was whirling. “It’s chill, go to class.” She checked her phone. “You’re already five minutes late.”

The boy checked his watch frantically. “Oh gods,” he moaned. “You’re right. Gotta run!” He jumped onto the railing and slid to the bottom, where he sprinted off in the direction of the theater division, clutching his loose papers tightly to his chest.

Daisy shook her head in amusement, taking her suitcase up to her dorm room and setting it inside. One side of the room was already filled up, with notebooks and swatches of fabric and a sewing machine on the desk. Daisy wondered who her roommate could be.

She didn’t feel like unpacking, so she deposited her suitcase on her empty bed and headed back down the stairs. People started muttering as soon as she stepped into the commons. She tried to ignore it, but couldn’t help but feel like they were talking about her. Her suspicions were confirmed when she overheard one student call her ‘Coulson’s little girl,’ and another make a comment on ‘she only got in because of who her father is.’

Hardening her face, she left the commons.

Daisy didn’t know anyone at SHIELD. She headed towards the theater division, ignoring the looks people were sending her way. She slipped into the hall, passing May’s office and deciding to explore a little bit. The first door she came across was open, and she peeked inside. It led to a classroom, where a group of people were sitting around a large circular table. They all held packets in front of them, and several had laptops open as well.

“-need to put the band students in the middle,” one was saying. Another piped up.

“But don’t you think they should be near the beginning? They are one of the most popular groups.”

The first girl spoke again. “That’s the point. We need to have them spruce up the show in between the boring events.”

A man was pacing around the table, listening to his students bounce ideas off one another. He was holding a whiteboard marker and jotting notes down on the huge board.

“Good point, Reyna,” the man said, tapping his forward with the back of the marker. “We’re going to want the Avengers to play when energy is low, to get everyone hyped up again.”

“And of course the theater production is last, as a grand finale,” another kid put in.

The standing man- Daisy could guess he was the teacher- wrote it down on the board. “Yes,” he agreed. “They always follow through and blow us all away.”

Daisy was itching for more information. From what she could figure, they were organizing the whole event. She looked at the door sign. The scriptwriting class. Makes sense.

She continued down the hallway, passing the costume shop and the wood shop, both making finishing touches on pieces for the musical, along with their own presentation to show off their department during performance week. The theater division, she learned, was the busiest section of the school. Just from observing, she came to understand a little bit more about how the theater division worked.

Each class and sub-section in the theater division had its own class, it’s own projects, and it’s own presentations. The musical theater club had members from all different divisions, as well as members from each sub-section in the theater division. Those students were solely responsible for that aspect of the musical production. Some of their classmates helped them, but it was mostly up to them to organize and complete their part.

At the end of the hallway, past all the practice rooms, was a locked set of double doors. Daisy tugged on them vainly, remembering what the boy had said earlier about it being a closed rehearsal.

Daisy wished she could slip in and watch for a while. Getting a sudden idea, Daisy looked down at her clothes. Thankfully, she was wearing almost all black, and none of her clothes were particularly loud or shiny. She swiftly walked into the nearest practice room and looked around. There was a sliding door that led to the practice room next door, so Daisy went through it.

She slipped through three rooms, before coming to a room with a larger, black door in the corner. In large white letters, someone had painted the words ‘STAGE DOOR’ on it. Daisy smiled, opening the door. It hinged open soundlessly, and Daisy crept forward, shutting the door behind her.

She was standing in the very back room of the theater, way behind the stage. Two dressing room doors were situated on either side of her, and she kept moving forward. When the men’s room door opened, Daisy bit back a yelp and ducked around the corner, back into the shadows.

It was the boy from earlier. He was struggling into a pair of black dance shoes, hopping down the hallway and fixing the heel at the same time. He didn’t notice Daisy, focused only on getting onto stage as quickly as possible. Daisy ghosted behind him, pausing at strategic locations, following the boy at a distance. She finally made it to the wing, where she hid behind a curtain, open barely enough for her to see.

There was a group of people on stage. A few were stretching, pulling their arms across their bodies and touching their toes. Others were shaking out their hands and feet. One was singing scales through a straw. A few were standing off to the side, deeply engrossed in conversation. If she had to take a guess, she would say they were the production team.

“Lincoln,” she heard Coulson’s voice call out, cutting through the mindless chatter, as the boy rushed out onstage. “You’re late.”

Lincoln sighed. “I know, I’m sorry sir,” he said. “I don’t have any excuse.”

She heard Coulson sigh. “It’s alright, let’s just get started. Any notes before we begin today’s rehearsal?”

A short, brown-haired boy with a clipboard stepped forward. “Good work with the individual aspects,” he said, looking at his clipboard. “A quick reminder, today is the day we put it all together. Full run through, tomorrow is a full dress rehearsal. Be ready. Lighting: follow Ward during his first solo, right now he’s moving more than you are, please fix it. Davis?”

Another boy with longer hair nodded, jotting down a note in his open binder. 

“Jemma- can you start to incorporate some of the most tricky pieces today? We need to start ironing out the kinks.”

“On it, Deke,” a girl- Jemma, presumably- said. “Shall I start now?” At the stage manager’s- Deke’s- nod of assent, she walked off briskly, throwing her hair up into a messy low pony with a hairband on her wrist. Daisy held her breath as Jemma passed by her location. Jemma paused for a split second, looking directly at where Daisy stood, before shaking her head and continuing towards the dressing rooms.

Deke continued talking. “Mac has some notes for you too, but there is just one thing I need to say first,” Deke sighed and rubbed his temple. “Don’t. Touch. Other. People’s. Props. Don’t do it! If you have not been explicitly told to touch something or move something at any specific moment, then don’t do it! Do you have any idea how many past shows have almost been ruined because of this?”

A short girl with a pixie cut raised her hand. “But all of them turned out just fine?”

Deke gave her a look. “Piper, you’re new this year, so I’ll cut you some slack. But those shows would not have turned out ‘just fine’ if there hadn’t been a stage manager, like me and all those who came before me, hadn’t been running around backstage locating all the mislaid, mistaken, and moved props and costumes.”

Piper put her hand down, slightly afraid of Deke.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not usually like this. But we perform in one week, and my job is to make it so all of you don’t have stressful jobs, which in turn makes mine stressful instead.”

Nearly everybody looked confused, but nodded along to Deke’s words anyways.

He clapped. “Okay, turning it over to Mac.”

A tall, muscled senior stepped forward. His arms were crossed and he looked almost menacing, with thick, angry eyebrows and dark shadows falling onto his face. Daisy found herself shrinking back. He started talking, giving out notes to the actors in a gravely voice. Mac seemed nice enough, and he had cute nicknames for everybody in the club. Once he was done with notes, he turned to Deke, who stepped forward once more.

“Jemma will work with each person individually out here on stage, where Coulson and Mac will be supervising. Be ready when she calls you out. In the meantime, set your props and meet back out here in fifteen minutes for vocal warmups and stretches. Let’s make this snappy,” he called out, clapping his hands together at the end of his sentence. “Remember- stage in 15.”

“Thank you, fifteen,” everyone chorused. They split and started heading in different directions. Several were coming directly towards Daisy. In a sudden flash of panic, she realized they were going to be setting props right where she stood, as well as opening and closing the curtain during the run through. Moving silently in a low crouch, she inched backwards, keeping out of sight of the students coming her way. When she was sure they weren’t looking, she slide across the open space, into the hall with the dressing rooms. 

Daisy continued walking, light on her feet, a hand trailing along the wall. She looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody was coming, and ran into something solid. Panicked, she spun around and her heart sank. Of course.

Jemma, the costume girl, was sprawled on the floor, Daisy having ran into her. Her brown hair fell into her face and she looked like she was in shock. Daisy sucked in a breath and hesitated. Normally, she would’ve sprinted away, but there was something about Jemma that reminded her of a kitten, soft and adorable, that made her want to help. Unable to restrain herself, she offered a hand to Jemma.

Jemma ignored it, gathering up all the costumes pieces in her arms and glaring at Daisy.

“Hi,” Daisy said awkwardly, twiddling her thumbs. She knew full well that she wasn’t allowed to be back here, and Jemma knew it too. “Jemma, right?” She didn’t want to sound creepy, but it wasn’t easy to start off on the best terms when you’re rule breaking.

Jemma put her hands on her hips. “It’s Simmons to you,” she said, shoving half of her garments into Daisy’s arms. She gathered up the rest and started marching back towards the stage. Daisy looked after her in confusion.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Jemma said, tutting. “If you’re going to be partaking in trespassing, at least make yourself useful.”

Daisy gaped at her, rushing to catch up without dropping any of Jemma’s clothes. “I wouldn’t say I’m trespassing,” Daisy protested. Jemma sniffed at her. “Look-” Daisy grabbed Jemma’s arm, stopping her and turning to face her. “How about you just let me leave and we can forget this ever happened. You could even escort me to the door if you wanted to.”

Jemma gave Daisy a look. “Oh please, don’t make me part of your bad girl shenanigans,” she said, scandalized.

Daisy rolled her eyes and followed Jemma. They walked out onto the stage, Jemma in a huff, and Daisy in a resigned slump. Coulson was talking quietly with Mac, and Deke was standing with them, nodding occasionally and checking things off his clipboard. He looked up.

“Jemma!” Deke called, before his expression melted into confusion and he pointed his pen at Daisy. “What…?”

Coulson noticed Deke’s confusion and turned to greet Jemma. His face fell when he saw his daughter, a sheepish expression on her face, trotting behind Simmons at a distance.

“Daisy.” Coulson’s voice was disappointed and upset. Daisy nearly flinched back at his tone, but held her ground.

“Hi, Dad.”


End file.
